


Between Dark and Light

by theimpossibleimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Season 11 Ending, Amara knows, Canon-Compliant, Casifer flirts with Dean, Chuck knows, Chuck/Castiel closure, Coda, Dean keeping feelings in, Dying Dean, Emotion suppression, Fix-it fic, Hurt Castiel, Idjits keeping stuff in, Impala talk, Last words, Lucifer gets some closure, M/M, No Billy the reaper, No British women of letters lady, One Shot, S11 E23 Alpha and Omega, Something HUGE and very not-canon happens with Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossibleimpala/pseuds/theimpossibleimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan to take out Amara didn't quite work out, but if any good came from it it's that Cas is now Lucifer-free. Only, that victory is short lived because God is dying, and by default, that means Dean will have to die too.</p><p>To have darkness, there must be light. Amara has to die with God, and Dean has to make it happen. But what if he's not ready?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the finale was a month ago, but whatever. Here's my take on it – how I think it should have gone down. Sorry if it's a little scatter-brained, I don't entirely remember the episode.

 

AND THEN SHE dissapears.

Just like that, Amara is gone. 

Dean stands, all of him aching, a part of him already knowing what's happened. Of course it wouldn't work. When had anything ever been that easy? They had Angels, demons, witches, even the fucking creator of the universe on their side – and somehow they still failed? He sees Chuck lying sideways on the hard concrete floor, and even though that's  _God_ right there, (God who could kill everyone with a snap of his fingers but really just enjoys Chinese food) God who is possibly hurt (or far worse) – that's _God_ and _yet_  that's not whose side he goes too. Not where Dean has a desperately hopefully longing to be.

Dean crouches beside Cas wearily. Because maybe this  _isn't_ Cas, maybe it's Lucifer and when those eyes open he'll see those of the Devil and not his Angel.

He puts his hand on their shoulder, and instantly whoever is in control of the vessel turns too look at him, groaning. Before they even speak or suck in a full breath Dean knows. This is Cas. He can see it in the posture, the fluttering eyelids, the way his head is tilted just slightly to better take in Dean. His heart is beating faster than it was in the heat of the fight and for such a different reason.

"Cas, is that you?"

Sam is speaking to Chuck several feet away, lifting him up.

"Yes," And Dean wants to melt. That's Cas.  One-hundred-percent pure, unfiltered Castiel. "Lucifer was forced from my body. He's... He's gone now."

Relief rushes through the hunter, a greatful (though terribly sad) smile slips onto his face then off of it. He helps Cas up, an arm lingering across the Angel's back, guiding him gently over to Chuck and Sam.

Yeah, they're all alive. Even Rowena and Crowley stumble back in, but they lost. The sun is dying or some bullshit like that, and now the world is ending faster than it already was. Everything crumbles. They build it all back up, then one tug of the wrong jenga piece and it all tumbles down. This war between wrong and right, dark and light, flee or fight, has been raging for years – never ending. And for Amara it had been building and growing and evolving for  _billions_ of years. The fairytale of God the Light and Amara the Dark was so ironically perfect from the start there was no way it was going to end well.

And now that was true.

Dean stands just in front of Cas, seperating him from Crowley and Rowena. For a second, Dean feels like he's protecting him. Then the whole lot of them drop into the main room of the bunker, and Dean realises that there are an infinity of forces more powerful than him, and that he can never keep them safe. Not Sam. Not Cas. Not himself.

Rowena falls into a chair with some scornful murmur and Crowley takes a pull from a flask only to find it empty. Sam helps Chuck into an old love seat and Rowena offers to make him tea. 

"Where's she now?" Sam asks.

God shrugs weakly, "In a garden. She's... I don't what she's doing."

"Well now what? I mean, if you die Chuck..." Sam makes a gesture.

"The world ends, the balance is disrupted."

"Exactly. So, I mean..."

Dean can feel it coming. What Sam's going to say. What's going to happen. He's not sure  _how_ or _what,_ but Dean knows that he's gonna have to finish this. He's the one with the goddamn 'connection' to Amara which means that he has to be some sort of weakness for her. Dean already knows he's going to die.

She's strong and relentless, not bending or breaking, not taking orders from anyone. Her weakness _should_ be Chuck, but she's the one who wants him dead. To her, family doesn't end in blood – it never makes it past her. Dean doesn't understand how someone can have such hate for the person they've known the longest. For the person who was at their side at the start. Sam and him have had there fair share of fights, hell, it had destroyed them a few times, but they always managed to pick the pieces up. Put themselves back together. Dean had had enough sibling trouble for a life time, and now it's up to him to solve a God-sized family quarrel? Great, just fucking great. 

Sam sighs and sits down, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the group with exasperation. Rowena flirts with Chuck, the world's ending so why not. Her witch friends must be dead. They haven't contacted her a done anything else. Dean wonders if she gives a crap. Probably not. Wouldn't that be a nice change? To not care? But no, he remembers what that's like. When he was a demon that's all he was. A monster without morality or a sense of judgement, entirely uncaring, and blissfully free. 

Crowley turns on the small boxy television perched atop a bookshelf, hitting play on whatever VCR is already inside. The third Indiana Jones starts playing, Harrison Ford peeking around a corner to spot a group of  guards and hiding again in fear of getting caught. Dean knows what happens next. He knows the movies like the back of his hand, and he knows how they end. As much as the odds stack against Indy, he comes out on top. But Sam and Dean? Not so much.

"Adam and Eve were the same way," Chuck says with a forced chuckle. Dean glances up at this, a stone in his chest.

"Kids," Rowena and God say simultaneously.

Crowley makes a big show of groaning and flopping onto the top of the table, glaring at his mother.

"I'm so glad the world's ending," Then, "Could you two please shut up and let me watch?"

Cas is leaning against the far wall, beside a number of photos and portraits of ex-Men of Letters. He rubs his palms across his face, and Dean can tell Cas is exhausted. Completely, and utterly  _exhausted._ Who could blame him? He'd been Lucifer's vessel for who knows how long, and now when he's back to himself he tossed right into end of the world? It isn't fair. None of its fair.

Dean stomps out of the room with no warning, heading straight for the kitchen. He slams open the fridge and looks past the leftovers to the six-pack of beer sitting inside. He yanks it out, slamming it down on the nearest surface and cracking open a bottle with a scowl. Sam comes in then, a  _what the hell_ look on his face, and the  those exact words slipping off his tongue.

Dean pretends not see Cas entering too, lingering by the far wall. He can't think about that right now though. He can't.

"Give me something to shoot," Dean growls, chugging more beer. "I'll do it. Something to kill. Something to fight. You got it any day of the week. I can shoot down a werewolf or gank a nest of vamps, but –" His voice breaks. "I can't fix the friggin'  _sun,_ Sammy. I can't cure _God_."

Only that's not true. No one else in the whole-wide-world _can_ fix the sun other than him. Dean knows he's going to die. 

And he knows this beer won't be enough. 

"We need more, I'm making a run."

"You're serious? You're just gonna drink this away? We need to all sit down and –" Sam argues before he's interrupted.

"It's over, Sam," Dean says with such conviction he almost believes himself. He turns to Castiel. "C'mon, Cas, let's go."

And with that he leaves, grabbing his car keys from the table where the redheaded witch is flirting with the dying writer; the kind-of-not-really King of Hell is sniffing an ancient jar of whiskey in disgust as he watches his movie. Dean climbs into his Baby, taking care to caress the steering wheel, and Cas slumps in next to him.

—

Dean drives fast because then he won't have to think. Because it's all too much. Again. The dark pavement and yellow lines flash past, he can barely see them. He refuses to look over at Cas even though he's the one who made the Angel come. _Shouldn't have done that_ , he thinks ruefully. It's too late isn't it? If Dean was going to tell Cas what he wants to, shouldn't he do it when there's a real chance of them being happy? Not now when Dean's certain he's dying today. Not now when everyone's despairing and giving up. 

"How are you?" He grits out, swerving to miss a stray plastic bag in the middle of the road.

"I'm... Fine. Compared to how I was a few hours ago, at least."

"Lucifer's gone?" Dean finds his death-grip in the wheel relaxing, his foot lifting off the glass slightly to slow down.

"Yes, Dean. Lucifer's gone."

A rather embarrassing sigh (that Dean refuses to name a whimper) comes out of his mouth. Confirmation, Reassurance. Cas is here beside him, not Lucifer. That is Cas's body, not Lucifer's vessel.

"Hi Cas," He breathes.

"Hello, Dean."

There's quiet as Dean slows the car even more, suddenly not at all wanting to get beer and go back home. 

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I believed it was the only way," Cas replies. Knowing without it being said what Dean's referring too.

"Do you believe that now? I mean, after everything?"

Cas doesn't respond immediately, so Dean looks over. He wasn't expecting their eyes to meet or for Cas to look so _sad_ and not fine _at all_ , he wasn't expecting Cas to look so much older than he ever had. The impala slowed even more, Dean's foot finding the break.

"I think it probably wasn't the best plan," Cas admits at last.

Dean laughs for no reason, "No shit, Cas. It was a terrible plan. You shouldn't have..." He stares hard at the Angel. "You _shouldn't have said yes_."

Castiel frowns, "Then why did we go see Lucifer at all? If he couldn't be of use? I hadn't been of any at all... He, surely, did more than I could have."

The car has come to a halt.

"He's _Lucifer_ , for Christ's sake. He's bad news no matter what. Going to see him? That was a _terrible_ plan too. At the time though, we had no answers. You know, Cas," And he thinks maybe he's talking too loudly, but that's alright. It's alright. "You _knew_ how much pain he had caused everyone. Caused _us_. You saw what he did to Sam, and you took that nightmare inside yourself. You shouldn't have – Why'd you say _yes_ , Cas?"

"I thought..."

"You thought what?"

"I thought I was no good! I thought I was extra, expendable. An extra pair of hands that could heal you and that was it. I had nothing to offer that Lucifer - or anyone – could offer as well, but offer _better_. I was _there_ , Dean. I wanted to be there. But I..." He shakes his head, looking out the window. The hunter wishes they'd look back at him. "I wasn't _needed_ there."

"But you were always _there_ ," Dean argues, kind of wishing he was still driving so he had an excuse to tear his gaze away. But doesn't. "And _I needed_ that. Hell, _you_ needed that. You're the best friend we've ever had. The best friend _I've_ ever had."

He shakes his head, putting a hand on his door and pushing it open. A warm breeze rushes in, carrying flower petals and a sweet scent. 

"Do you know what...that –" He stumbles over his words. Dean's afraid he's saying too much or not enough. But he's going to die, right? Or at least, it sure as hell seems like he's going to even if no one else has figured it out yet. "All I cared about was getting you back, and killing Amara. I never stopped looking for you Cas," He reluctantly meets the Angel's stare. "Not once. I didn't understand how you could... Agree to _that_. How you could just _leave_ , like that. Don't you dare," And as he says this he raises a hand, gesturing firmly. "Don't you dare do that again. I've lost too many people that I love. Far more than I'd ever hoped. Some of them died, some of them left, and some of them _I_ left – to protect them. I can't lose you too, Cas. I won't."

Castiel doesn't speak. He isn't even blinking and Dean's sure he's gone too far, said too much, crossed the invisible line they both agreed on (but never spoke of). The hunter, strangely enough, doesn't regret telling Cas. That is, telling Cas without _directly_ telling Cas. Because it was true, it has _always_ been true and Dean's never said it. Though neither has Cas. What were they afraid of? What was it _exactly_? Were they worried their feelings wouldn't be reciprocated? No, no. They both _know_ how the other feels. It's obvious. And still Castiel hasn't said a thing.

Dean thinks, that maybe Cas knows too. 

That Dean's going to die today. 

They both jerk in shock at the sound of Dean's phone growling out his ringtone. Fumbling fingers hit the green button and he practically lays his forehead on the steering wheel as he answers.

"Hello?" He clears his throat, and realises with a sniff that he was on the verge of tears. _Is_ , on the verge. "What's wrong?"

He hears Sam's voice, and vaguely what he says. But not really. Cas is watching him, until he's not. The Angel's eyes fall shut as he drops off into sleep, and Dean hangs up the phone.

"Sam says they got something," He mumbles, not sure if Cas can hear or not.

The key turns and the engine fires  up, the impala doing a smooth one-eighty turn and cruising back to the bunker.

—

Cas is startled by a warm hand shaking him awake. He groans accidentally, it's such a human thing to do. He supposes though, at this point he's more human than he is Angel. 

"C'mon Cas, let's go,"

Déjà vu sweeps over him then off again as he sits up and out of the impala. Dean is empty handed, never having made it to the store. And he looks so _sad_ , so _done_ , it's unbearable. The things Dean told him not an hour ago come rushing back and he nearly falls over. It confirmed everything he ever thought could be true.

"Dean, what's going on?"

"C'mere," Dean waves a hand. When Cas gets to him he wraps it across his shoulders and leads him into the bunker. There's a pause the moment Dean has his hand on the door. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Cas asks, wanting to sound stoic but failing horribly.

"For what I'm gonna have to do."

"And what's that?"

Dean cocks his head skeptically, "You know."

And Cas did know. Even though he wished he didn't.

The bunker was oddly warm inside. The extra people being around must have effected the temperature. The television is off, Chuck is on what seems to be his third cup of tea, and Sam is at the head of the table wearing a resigned expression. Crowley has his feet propped up on a chair, and apparently has found some half-decent alchohol to drown his problems in. Dean and Cas go down the stairs silently, and the group barely acknowledges when they settle into seats.

Soon Chuck is explaining Amara's weaknesses and Crowley is flitting off to Hell for souls and Rowena is enchanting some magic rock. Another plan. A worse one. Castiel's fear is coming true; Dean is to destroy Amara and with her probably himself. He would like to argue it's not worth it. That they can give up the earth to save Dean Winchester. Or the sun. Or whatever the hell they need to as long as it's not Dean. Cas would gladly take his spot. Can't though. Forbidden. He wants to argue the plan but he can't. Dean knew what was going to happen, he must have, otherwise why would he have said all that stuff? The end is nigh, of course Dean decided to reveal the truth now.

No one has said I yet, though. No one's said Dean is going to die. But the hunter knows it, and Cas knows it, and Rowena and everyone else knows it.

Sam and Dean load up bags and leave. Rowena goes to make some more tea and clean herself up, and so only Castiel and Chuck are left.

Castiel and God.

Cas and his _father_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up later tonight or tomorrow. The final chapter should be up hopefully by the end of the week.


	2. Chapter 2

 

CASTIEL has so many questions he doesn't know where to start. Or if he should start at all. Chuck is dying, now might not be the most opportune time to start questioning the man. He tries to subtley watch his father while organising a stack of books that had been removed from their rightful positions on the shelves.

He's exhausted. Cas is so tired he can barely move, breathe; though he keeps going. He has to ride this out, fight until the end. Oh, and the end is going to hurt. Rowena hasn't said it yet, neither has Chuck – Cas knows though. This war is Dean's to finish. It's ridiculous that this weight should be put on his shoulders. After a decade of endless battles against the evils of this world Dean is to be saddled with yet another responsibility that _shouldn't_ be his to deal with.

The Angel wonders, not for the first time, what they could have done to stop the Mark of Cain from corrupting Dean rather than removing it. What if... Cas had taken it instead? What if Cas had taken the Mark and locked himself up in Heaven's prison? He couldn't have hurt anyone. Dean would be saved. The Darkness would still be trapped. Maybe, just maybe, Sam and Dean could have found a little bit of peace. 

"Castiel? Are you alright?" Chuck asks, startling Cas so much he drops the last two books in his hands.

"Oh, um. Yes, I'm..." He reaches down to pick up the scattered volumes. "Fine. Do you need anything?"

He raises his attention to Chuck who is laid back in a soft red chair, feet up, and a large mug in hand. 

"Come here."

Cas nods, hastily shoving the books randomly in place and walking across the room. He averts his eyes from his Father's face, unsure of he's allowed to look there. His palms are weirdly damp, clammy, he thinks is the word humans use. "Yes?"

"Sit down, Cas. And you can look at me, don't worry. I'm your friend, not your ruler."

He obeys, awkwardly sitting on a nearby stool. "You're my Father."

Chuck sighs, "Yes. Yes I am."

A grandfather clock tolls somewhere on the bunker, the sound ricocheting around the room. 

"So, don't you have any questions for me?"

Castiel studies his shoes, shaking his head just slightly. "I have many questions for you, but I don't think I should ask them."

Chuck nods like he understands, "Why not?"

"I suppose if I've made it this long without having them answered, I can make it for the rest of my life," He swallows, "Besides, I don't need to know. It wouldn't make any difference."

"Wouldn't it?" God sits up, setting his dishes to the side and folding his arms over his chest with a wince. "I mean, haven't you wanted to know why I've saved you so many times? Or why I believe you are so special? Look at me, Cas."

Castiel does, finding Chuck's expression full of desperation and a kindness he can't quite comprehend.

"You were the first Angel to travel through Hell and make it back out, did you know that?"

The Angel shakes his head.

"You were able to go through the most toxic, impure, and blasphemous places ever created and leave it with your Grace and morality fully intact. You found a light in the darkest of lands. You are one of the few Angels who still, and have _always_ , loved humanity the most. I saw everytime you smiled at children, and when you answered prayers I could not," Chuck smiles. "You are stand-up Angel, Cas. You've done good."

"Thank you, but I don't really think I deserve –"

"Hey," He chastises. "Don't argue with me on this. I'm the one who passes judgement, aren't I?"

"Yes, of course," Cas blushes, embarrassed by speaking against him.

"Well my judgement is that you are a spectacular Angel, one of the best, Cas," He leans back into his chair. "Really."

"Thank you," Cas mumbles numbly. This can't be true. What has Cas ever done that's good? He's betrayed Heaven more times than he can count, lied to the Winchesters, countless others, and himself. He's not worthy of still being here. Of hearing these praises and such _gratitude_ from the being his loyalty strayed from.

"I betrayed Heaven!" Cas can't help but blurt out anyway.

"Well," Chuck shrugs, "if I were in your place I would have too."

Cas furrows his brow, "Really?"

"You forget, Cas. I was there. I was there when you sent Dean to that convent to stop Sam from killing Lillith. I was there when you stayed behind to fight the Arch-Angels coming for him. I was there, Cas, when you died."

"I...suppose you were... And then Lucifer revived me _because_ I was disobedient."

"No," Chuck counters immediately, "I saved you Cas. I brought you back and put Sam and Dean on that airplane. I've been watching you for a long time. And you deserved life. You've always deserved that."

Cas blinks, taking a deep breath and hardly believing the words he's hearing. God saved him all those years ago. Not the Devil. _Well_ , he supposes, _thank God_.

"Do you need anything to eat?"

"Yeah, actually," Chucks says. "A bagel. Plain. Not toasted. Please."

"I think we have some, I'll be right back."

Castiel lingers in the kitchen longer than he needs to, leaving with not only a bagel but also the pot of hot water to refill Chuck's tea. 

"Ah ha," He grins, "Thank you Cas. Mmm..." Chuck takes a bite of the food. "Delicious. Perfect. Now sit back down," He waves his cup. "I'm not done talking to you."

Chuck finishes the bagel amazingly fast and down the rest of his tea, pouring more water in and then slurping that up too. He wipes at his mouth before turning back to Cas with tight lips. The Angel shuffles his feet a moment, searching for purchase on the small bar at the foot of his stool.

"Castiel, I'm going to ask _you_ something now, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," Cas replies (and it sounds very Dean-like, the way he says it). "Whatever you want to know."

"How did you keep all those souls, all those _Leviathan_ , inside you all at once?"

It takes a second for him to digest the question. "How did I... I – I just did. My vessel was strong enough, and I guess so was my Grace. For awhile, until I had to let them go again and I... Died."

Chuck hmms at this, "And how did you not go mad from the horrors in Sam's head? The ones that were from his time in the Cage?"

Th Angel frowns, his brows coming together. "I'm not sure. But I was Angel, and those memories weren't mine. They couldn't have the same effect."

God suddenly leans in closer, making Cas reflexively sit straighter.

"Cas, do you know why you could contain _Lucifer_ and yourself in your body?"

There's a silence. Cas's tongue has gone dry, an _impossible_ answer sticking there. Chuck seems solemn, an apology in his eyes. 

"Castiel..." Says Chuck gently, his hand raising to Cas's forehead. 

The Angel's heart is beating fast. Not the kind of fast it does with – with, _him_ ; a kind that suggests fear and dread. Because _no, it's impossible. It can't be true_. Cas isn't... He can't be. He would know. The _other_ Angels would know. He's never been that strong, that powerful. A wingless, useless, fallen Angel is what he is. He _can't_ be...

"You were in case... They screwed up. In case they died or turned bad like Lucifer. You, Castiel, are the _eighth_."

"The eighth _what_?" Cas whispers, his mind whirling. The room tilting  and his bones themselves trembling. 

"You know what, Cas," Chuck's fingers gently skim Cas's head. "Tell me."

"The eighth..." Cas swallows, eyes shutting because he _can't_ right now. " _Arch-Angel_."

God's hand presses firmly to Castiel's temple and everything goes white.t

—

_The entire Universe spins. Every galaxy glittering and shimmering with trillions of balls of light igniting the endless blackness of the sky. Solar systems circle stars and stars explode, becoming masses of gas and energy that collides in on itself a thousand times, it's light crossing space and millions of years later being seen through a telescope by a man resting on a  single planet with a massive telescope in his hands._

_The oceans shimmer and splash at the surface, warm and willing to wash up on shores carrying nutrients and particles. Overtime, if also brings scraps of wood and plastic to beaches. They become browned and tainted by oils, greases, and toxins. But below, a hundred miles down, the water is untouched and unscathed. It's clean and pure. Here roams thousands of minuscule sea creatures. Many small than a millimetre, some longer than school buses. They struggle to live a world so dark and lonely, yet it's the only life they've ever known and so really it's not a struggle at all._

_In the forest there are trees. Tall ones stretching to sky, short ones happy being near the ground, and ones that fall inbetween like a middle-child in a family. Squirrels and birds find homes and meals here easily, along with insects and bugs. The ground soaks up water and provides life to the countless species of plants, as well as keeping ponds and creeks filled and flowing. It's lively and crowded. So much life under the same canopy of leaves. And entire world within another._

This is what _the wings_ made of.

 _Massive wings unfurl themselves. The feathers range in size from the length of a pencil to a pickup-truck. They're smooths sm soft, terribly sensitive yet wickedly sharp. They're made to be armour, protection, and for flight infinitely faster than light. The wings have no colour, and yet every colour. They shimmer and flicker like Christmas lights and the salt-and-pepper screen of a TV. Rainbows sweep through them in waves, they're like the Northern Lights attatched to a Being. To an_ Angel _._

_—_

Cas is standing when he comes to, his arms thrown out to his sides and trenchcoat billowing out around his legs. A fierce wind is whipping around, throwing numerous books off shelves and the chairs and tables crashing against the walls. To either side of him are the dark shadows of massive, fully-intact wings. Energy thrums through him, pulsing inside his veins and bones and the very _atoms_ that make up his body. 

Slowly, he stretches his new wings out. Castiel watches them in disbelief, he can't quite understand that these are _his_ – that they've _always_ been his. It's doesn't make any sense, but weirdly it _feels_ right. His wings nearly reach the ceiling, which is a good twenty feet high, and while they are spread they press against the walls. These things are too beautiful, too _vivid_ to belong to him. 

"When I'm gone, Castiel," God says, his voice bringing Cas back down to earth. His wings fade out of sight, returning to their natural plane of existence. "Someone's going to need to keep the Angels in check. Now, I'm not saying you need to be their leader, or create rules or boundaries for them, I'm just saying... Watch them for me. Watch from afar. Learn from them as you've learned from humans. Make sure you kids don't try to end the world or anything too crazy." Chuck laughs, even if nothing's really all that funny.

Castiel felt larger than life with his wings out, but now he is small again. He is in the presence of _God_ , the creator of everything. 

"Stay here with the Winchesters, Cas. I know you want too. And..." Chuck comes up to Cas, his hand going to his arm and pulling the Angel in for an unexpected hug. "Stay safe. Try and be happy. I think you should, uh, talk to Dean more."

Cas wants to object immediately at what his Father is implying, but is stopped before he can.

"Shut up, Cas. It's fine. I know. It's all good."

Cas decides to let it be, and does what he can to return the hug Chuck's giving him. Warm, fatherly, _famililal_. 

Right! There is one question, one small thing that ain't really that huge. It won't change Cas's perception of world or anything that's he's come to believe, so he asks. 

"Is there such thing as a luck? Or as coincidence?"

Chuck pulls back, smiling at Cas.

"Luck? Nah, that's just a thing humans use an explanation for unlikely events. And coincidences? Yes, coincidences are just that. I don't decide much of anything, honestly. I don't control the world or what the people in it do. Free will, right? If something happens to line up or create a pattern, or reoccurres when it seems impossible... That's not spelling out fate or destiny. That's coincidence. It's bound to happen sometimes."

Castiel nods, smiling just a bit. And he realises, he's not tired anymore. Not at all. Healthy, healed, clear-minded.

"Oh my god!" Says a loud voice from a distance, "What in the _hell_ happened in here?!"

Cas turns to face the sound, noting the destroyed bunker as he did so. Papers, books, furniture, weird trinkets and folders – everything was scattered on the floor in piles near the walls. 

"Hey Cas," Chuck says quietly. "If you ever want to not be an angel anymore, or you want to – uh, _let go_ – just send up prayer. And you'll be free to live as human or..." The words _'or die as one'_ aren't spoken and yet Cas hears them anyway.

"Thank you," Cas whispers, meaning it. 

Dean trudges into the room then, a duffel bag in hand and his sleeves rolled up – Sam right behind him.

"Did you guys have a party or somethin'?" Dean asks, a small scowl on his face (probably because he doesn't want to have to clean it all up).

"No," Chuck supplies. "It was just... A side effect. I'm losing power, it's physically leaving me. Something like this was bound to happen. Here –" He snaps his fingers and the bunker is tidied up instantly. "There ya go."

"Chuck," Sam steps forward. "You really shouldn't just be using up what power you _do_ have like that. You need to hang on as long as possible."

"I have a lot of mojo, Sam," Defends Chuck, once more sitting in his love seat newly positioned just behind him. "A clean-up of this place is like throwing out one handful of sand from an entire beach. It's fine."

The youngest hunter can't really argue so instead he nods and tells them that he has to go call Rowena and Crowley.

Dean is staring at Cas, and Cas doesn't want to deal with it. He excuses himself and heads to the bedroom he's been calling his own.

—

Dean watches Cas go as an invisible hand reaches into his chest and squeezes his heart so hard it hurts. Letting go isn't going to be easy. Letting go of Sam will be impossible, but at least with him he knows he's said everything he's ever meant to. He's told Sam what he wants for him and why he's fought so hard to keep him alive. But with Cas? Everything's a secret. Everything's unsaid. How true can something be if it goes unvoiced and unheard by who it's meant for?

Sam returns after a few minutes and Crowley appears moments later, saying he has no souls to give them. For some reason this isn't at all surprising. Rowena hasn't shown yet, so Dean perches on the edge of the table while his brother examines the purple stone containing the souls they captured.

Dean leaves for the kitchen, upon entering it he sees Castiel standing at the open fridge.

"Whatcha lookin' for in there, Cas?"

The Angel turns with a bagel in one hand and a beer in the other. Dean raises his eyebrows but then they fall when Cas hands the bottle to him.

"I assume that's what you came for?"

Dean nods, something strange is going on.

"Chuck was eating one of these earlier, I was hungry so I thought I might get one for myself," Cas explains, waving his bagel around.

"Oh, yeah, that's fine." 

Dean leans against the counter, cracking open his beer as Cas sets down his food to fetch his _own_ beer and take a sip from it.

"Uh, you feelin' all right, Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't normally..." The hunter gestures at Cas's beverage, "drink."

"I don't? Huh. Thought I woulda picked that up by now."

"Cas?" Dean frowns deeply, watching his friend as they smile and finish the bagel.

"Dean?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, jeesh. Sit down, why don't you," Cas complains as he sits on one of the stray fold-up chairs in the kitchen. Dean wearily takes the other. "Chuck healed me, I'm all in one piece now."

The Winchester frowns even more deeply, did Chuck screw with Cas's head? Has the Angel been drinking a lot? What's going on? Is he sick, maybe? Dean takes a gulp of beer then sets it on the floor beside him (there's no dining table in here). Then Cas smirks at him as he chugs the last of his bottle down. He fucking _smirks_. Then Castiel is standing up, and coming to stand before Dean, towering over him and smirking again.

A small, nervous, smile betrays Dean. Because, _wow_ , _Cas is beautiful._ He feels so silly just thinking it, but it's true. It's even more true because Cas seems weirdly carefree and open right now, as if worries have been stripped from him completely leaving behind an optimistic and _smiley_ Angel of the Lord. Cas moves in even closer, his hands landing on Dean's shoulders. The hunter should be pushing him away or preparing to flee (his hunting reflexes should be kicking in), but he's not. This is Cas. This is... 

Dean yelps as Cas, without any warning or preamble, _sits down on his fucking lap._ His arms are wrapped around Dean's neck and he's straddling Dean's waist like – like – Dean can't even think what it's like. He's nose-to-nose with Angel, mere centimetres between them. Holy shit, _what's happening??_  He's not breathing, his heart is hammering, his arms dangling at his sides. It's hot and stuffy, the room growing smaller and _hotter_. What's he supposed to do in a situation like this? Dean doesn't know if he wants Cas to tilt his head closer or farther away; if Dean wants to put his hands on their hips and pull him closer or push him off. He's been staring into Cas's eyes for a long time, (playful, mischievous in them), but now he sees it. Yet, Dean's not sure of he's relieved or – (does he dare think it?) – _disappointed_.

"Um," A third, British-accented voice mumbles from the kitchen door awkwardly. "Am I interrupting something? I think... I'll just..." Crowley trails off uncertainly, hesitating as his eyes widen at the spectacle he walked in on.

"Oh, hello Crowley," Cas drawls. He moves one hand from around Dean's neck so he can turn his torso to look at the demon.

" _Lucifer_?" The King of Hell questions with surprise, his attention flicking to Dean who is frozen and completely incapable of forming a sentence.

"The one and only," _Lucifer_ confirms. "I was just testing to see how far I'd have to go for Deanie here to realise I'm back in the driver's seat. But I guess... Cas sitting on you is a _regular_ occurrence?"

" _Get off_ ," Dean growls. He shoves his hands against Lucifer's stomach. The Devil doesn't falter in the slightest, instead wrapping both hands more tightly around Dean's head, fingers curling in the hunter's hair.

"Nah, I'm fine right here, thanks."

"Get _off_ ," Dean snarls right into Lucifer's face which is pressed much too closely to his own.

"Lucifer," Crowley chastises, "Give the man some space. Come smooch me if you must, but keep up with that and Dean'll stab you in the face."

"I really don't think he'll hurt a hair on my head while I'm in _this_ body, don't you agree, Dean?"

Dean's had fucking enough of this, and in one sure move, Lucifer is crashing to the floor as Dean looms above him.

"Don't try that again," He says dangerously, and leaves the room angrily. 

He storms into the room where Sam and Chuck have been conversing, and they both look up at the sound of his stomps. Sam's eyebrows come together and God gives a tight smile... Until Dean comes up to him with a finger pointing at his face.

"What the _fuck_ , Chuck? Lucifer is back? Why is he –"

"Lucifer?" Chuck repeats, startled. "I... What do you mean?"

"I mean the _fucking_ devil is traipsing around in Cas again!"

Sam is up, staring, confused. Dean is glaring at everyone. Crowley comes back into the room holding a handful of strawberries and ignores them all in favor of the television ( _I Love Lucy_ reruns playing). Dean's beyond mad, he's pissed as fuck. He thought Cas was okay now. He thought that he'd be able to finish off Amara in the knowledge that Sam was alive and Cas was safe. But no. No. No, no, _no_..... Chuck has his eyes shut as if he's doing some soul-searching for answers and Sam has left to go scout out the kitchen... 

"My ears were burning."

Dean spins around and, along with everyone else, his attention falls to Lucifer. He's smirking, again, beer in hand and trenchcoat thrown across one arm. He places the jacket over the back of a chair and hops up onto the table with ease. 

"Lucifer, where did you go?" Asks Chuck from behind Dean. The hunter shoots him a frustrated expression (which goes ignored).

"Oh you know... _Out,"_ He sighs with fake anguish, his dress shoes clicking over the wooden table. He flops down to sit facing the other two men, his legs dangling to touch the floor. Crowley has side-stepped out of the room, and Sam is reentering just as Lucifer speaks up again.

"Listen, Dad. I'm a grown Angel, I can do what I want. Besides, let's not forget _who_ kicked _who_ out..." God opens his mouth as if to argue but the Devil plows on. "I left because I didn't want to get murdered by Amara, thank you very much. I thought you guys would've come looking for me..."

He stretches his face into a mocking frown and Dean grinds his teeth together. He hates seeing Cas doing all this. The hunter has to remember that that is someone else entirely inside there.

Dean crosses his arms, stepping closer to Lucifer, "Are you here to help? Because if not, get the fuck out of Cas." 

"Ohh..." Lucifer purrs with Castiel's voice. "Where was this side of you five minutes ago? We could've had angry sex."

Sam shoots a freaked out look at Dean and the oldest Winchester doesn't even know what to say. Thankfully, Chuck does.

"Lucifer if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. And let go of Castiel. He is not your vessel anymore."

"Isn't he?" The devil challenges, jumping off the table and swaggering up around it to Sam. Dean holds his breath.

"C'mon, Sammy, what's the rules about a vessel?" Lucifer clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. Sam is puzzled a moment, then it dawns on him.

"They have to say yes."

Oh, fuck. If that isn't the goddamn icing on the cake. _Cas let him back in? What the hell?_ Hadn't been possessed for way too long already? Now Dean's not mad at Lucifer, shit, he's mad at Cas. He thought the Angel realised how bad of a choice this was. He thought Castiel had some wits about him now. He thought, he thought, he _thought_...

"Don't hurt yourself over there, Dean, _baby_."

Dean could throw up with the amount of sugar in that voice.

"Little Cassie said yes again, I'm afraid. _What_ , I wonder, could have made him do that?" Now he's waltzing back over to Dean and Chuck, stripping off Cas's black blazer and removing the white and blue tie. "Phew, so many layers. Much better," He claps his hands, "Now, back to my point..."

Chuck suddenly steps out in front of Dean, tilting his head back to face Lucifer straight-on.

"You know I'm dying right, son?"

The grin on Lucifer's face is extinguished instantly, and then he's crying. Big, huge, wracking sobs. He falls into Chucks arms shaking and shuddering and continuing to weep. Chuck rubs his back, murmuring _it's okay it's okay_ into the Devil's ear. Lucifer doesn't seem to believe him or even listen, crying harder, and murmuring inaudible words through wetness and sniffles. Dean's gaping. Sam is gaping. And Crowley who has returned is watching with clear amusement. Dean thinks he sees the demon snap a photo of the moment. Chuck pats Lucifer on the back, then the fallen Angel pulls away with a sigh and regretful smile. That sends a harsh pang through Dean's chest; it makes Lucifer look even more like Cas.

And strangely, Dean got it. He really did. Now, he certainly wasn't one to have _any_ sympathy for the Devil, but he did know a thing or two about problematic fathers. Sure, Lucifer had a grudge against God and hated him for a dozen different reasons – but at the end of the day, they were family. The Devil loved him for what he was and what he tried to be; Dean understood. John had treated him like an idiot sometimes, ordered Dean around,  taken away his childhood...and yet they were _still_ family, first and foremost. Dean had looked up to him, relished John's praises, and wept when his dad died. How ironic it is, to care so much for people who treat you so badly.

After a long while, Lucifer explained that he was here to help. That Castiel gave him permission to possess him to say goodbye to God and assist in the way of killing Amara. Sam hesitantly agreed and revealed the sparkling, purple crystal to the Devil as Chuck explained exactly how it was meant to work. The light of the souls would extinguish the Darkness once and for all, only...they needed many, many, more souls. 

Rowena at last returned to the bunker, with a loud slam of the front door and dramatic clicking of her heels as she strode down the stairs in her glittering dress. She confirmed that the other witches had died, seemingly unmoved by the news – and equally unaffected by Lucifer's sudden presence. Crowley and her got into some kind of argument that Dean blocked out, his back against the nearest wall. Something was wrong.

After making a show of stroking his chin and humming a lot, Lucifer announced he could breach the Veil and take thousands of souls from there and put them into the purple rock. Rowena gladly hands it over and steps back. The Devil climbs back up onto the table, and speaks several phrases in Enochian. Howling disturbs the bunker, fierce wind destroying the room once more. Blue and white, glowing, electric orbs of light appear from thin air and magnetise to the crystal. Amongst it all, Dean slumps down the wall to the floor, a painful ringing in his ears. He could hear Amara in his head, whispering.

_Our time is yet to come, Dean._

It's terrifying and unnerving, but it's gone as quickly as it came. The room is spinning, the blinding lights fading, papers drifting to rest on the tiles. 

Lucifer hops off the table, his eyes aglow with purple fire, and hands the crystal over to Rowena who is beaming. 

Chuck is standing over Dean, startling him.

"Need a hand?" He offers, holding out his own.

"Thanks," Dean accepts, straightening once more. He feels dizzy, but after blinking and a few deep breaths he is better.

"Is that enough?" Dean asks with more desperation in his voice then intended.

"Oh, yes, darlin'. I think this'll do just nicely," Rowena waves a hand at him. "Come over here."

Dean obliges, not failing to notice Sam and Chuck's frown. Lucifer has his arms crossed, rocking back and forth on his feet. The room has once again been cleaned up, books away, chairs tucked into place. The hunter's heart beats faster the closer he gets to the witch. His moment has come. He knew it from the start. Hell, he knew it the first time he saw Amara. Whatever she wants, is starting and ending with him. 

"We need someone with a connection to Amara to deliver this, and Dean..." She actually loses the smile. "I'm afraid it'll have to be you..."

He feels Sam move up behind him, senses Crowley frown that small frown of his, and he knows there's tears in his own eyes without even thinking. 

"So... How do I smuggle this thing?"

Rowena gives him a hard look, "You won't carry the bomb. You'll _be_ the bomb."

Dean nods, his jaw working. Of course. Dammit, of _fucking_ course. Up until then, there had been a chance, _maybe_ he wouldn't have had to do this. Maybe, there would have been a different way. But now, this is all they've got. This is _it_. 

Rowena sets the stone down and gestures at it with her manicured nails, "I'm going to take what's in there..." She presses her palm against Dean's heart, "And put it in here. Once you get close to her, you press your fingers together like so..." She demonstrates, her eyes wide, making sure he understands. " _Boom_."

"Dean," Sam's says with a pleading tone. "You don't have to do this."

Only he does. He does and he hates it. There's worse ways to go... At least he's dying to save the damn sun and the whole damn world. He's dying to save Sam and Cas and everybody else. He's dying because he's meant to, because it would always end this way. Bloody and bad. Hey, at least he's going out with a _bang_. He tries to smile in assurance, but falters in the delivery, "Yes I do, Sammy. Yes I do."

And in his head, from thousands of miles away, comes a whisper.

_Yes you do, Dean. Yes you do._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, the next update probably won't be for another week or two. It will be soon though.
> 
> 6/20/16


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. So I feel terrible for take literally four months to update but hey, at least I am! And just in time for the new season too.

THE CEMETERY is chilly. The air stirs leaves on trees and carries the sound of police sirens in the distance. The sun is dying and the world isn't taking it too well.

Dean looks down at his mother's gravestone solemnly. This was his last request; to say good bye to his family. 

Cas is here. Sam, Chuck, hell – even Crowley and Rowena are. It's weird because he cares deeply about the first two and _somehow_ has found himself moderately caring about the others. Maybe it's because he's feeling nostalgic before death, or maybe it's because at the end of the day that witch, demon, and freaking _God_ are on his side. They fought beside Dean. And that has earned them at _very least_ his respect and appreciation. 

And his Mom? Well, he may have never had the chance to know her ( _really_ , know her), but he'd seen her life. He would always remember _Hey Jude_ and " _angels are watching over you_ ". Dean may not have very many memories of her, but what he did have, what he _felt_ even in the deepest pits of his self-hate, was that someone had loved him. Someone kind, thoughtful, intelligent, sympathetic, and wishful (everything Dean isn't) had cared enough to bring Dean into the world and do her best to keep him happy, keep him safe – give him a childhood. His Mom... Well, he supposes that now his thoughts everytime something _good_ happens are not of angels performing miracles, but of one Mary Winchester watching over him. (And if he tries real hard, he can imagine John having helped make it possible.)

Sam is beside him. He wonders what his brother is thinking (if it's about the possibility of life after Dean or about the impossibility of it). 

"Dean, you know, you don't have to do this."

Dean gives a sideways glance to his brother, "'Course I do. I just have to get close. I can do that, okay?" He sighs, "I _can_ do that."

"But, Dean –"

"No 'but's, Sammy. You know as well as I do..." He bites his lip, looking into the distance, "that this was coming. Since we let Amara free. I know you knew, and  I guess the time is just finally here."

Dean can tell Sam is about to push the matter further so Dean continues, "Do something for me?"

"Of course," it's slightly reluctant, as if Sam thinks Dean should be alive to do whatever it is himself.

"Can you look after Cas?"

Sam makes some kind of sound – apparently whatever he thought Dean was going to say it wasn't that. "Look after...Cas?"

"Yeah," Dean says with more spirit than he feels, "I mean, the guy full on rebelled, gave up an angel army, and even lost his wings for me."

This gets a little strained chuckle out of Sam. Just what Dean needed to hear.

"What'll he do without me?"

"I'm not sure Dean," Sam says with a sad smile, "But yeah..." And he gives Dean a firm look, "I'll look out for him."

Sam opens his mouth again, glancing behind them at the others, then back to Dean.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Nothing. I just hope you've told him...everything you need too."

"Cas?"

"Yeah," Sam nods, " _Cas_."

Dean shakes his head and turns back to his mother's gravestone.

"You know, if this works, um, that bomb goes off." Sam says.

"I know," Dean reassures him. "Trust me, I know. But Sammy, do _you_ know?"

Sam seems confused, but Dean walks away, leaving his brother at the headstone. He passes by Cas who's been watching them and Dean reaches out to barely touch his shoulder on his way to Chuck.

God and Rowena are leaning against the impala, Crowley to their right. The King of Hell has his hands tucked in pockets, and is nearly expressionless. Which...is new.

Dean meets Chuck's eyes, "You cool with this? Our plan?"

"No," Chuck answers automatically, but after a moment adds, "I – Even after everything she's done, Amara's still my sister. She's my family. I can't – I don't want to see her dead, but..." He frowns at his sneakers, "Yeah? I get it. I do."

"Okay, okay, good."

Dean tries to smile but can't, and so he turns around, finding himself facing Castiel. Oh god, _Cas_. 

Weirdly, randomly, unnervingly, he's suddenly reminded with a jolt of something Cain said to him.

_And then you'd kill the angel Castiel, that one, I imagine,  that I suspect would hurt something awful._

And Cain wouldn't be wrong. The mere thought of hurting Cas, or God forbid, _killing_ him is so terrifying he's almost relived to be minutes form certain doom. If he's gone he can't hurt Cas anymore. He remembers what he did when he had the Mark – throwing Cas around, hitting him, breaking him, _bleeding_ him – and he'd give anything ( _anything_ ) to take that back, to wash the slate clean. But now it's too late. 

Now it's goodbye.

_It's too late._

"Dean."

 _It's goodbye_.

"Cas."

 _Too little.._.

Cas steps forward, his warm arms wrapping around Dean tightly, (securely, _safely_ ). Then _there's_ that smile on his face he'd tried to give Chuck, it's just a tiny sad thing, but _still_. And then he realises the smile wasn't for Cas, it was _because_ of him. Then the smile is gone. He pats the angel's back firmly, and he thinks maybe Cas buries his face into Dean's shoulder just a little bit. And _oh shit_ , he loves Cas.

"Okay...okay..." He murmurs.

He _loves_ Cas. A lot. For a long time.

_Too late..._

"Alright," He says, at last pulling away. He leaves a hand on Cas.

Castiel gives him an absolutely heartbreaking look, "I could come with you."

"No! No, no." Dean says (too fast, too forceful), "No, I have to do this alone."

Cas seems to have expected this, "Like in the stories. The hero must face the villain on their own. To prove themselves."

"I guess. I don't really think I'm proving anything, and I'm definitely not a hero."

"I've told you Dean, you're _my_ hero."

"Yesh, okay Cas."

It's times like these where Dean wishes he was a little more literate so he could say something magnificent and all-encapturing to the angel. But he can't. So instead he says,

"Listen, if – _when_ – when this works," He struggles for the words, "Sam – he's gonna be a mess. So look out for him, okay? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Of course."

In those two words, Dean hears everything he hopes to be true. 

With only slight hesitance, he places his other hand on Cas's other shoulder, so they're full-on staring at each other. 

"Thank you for everything."

Cas nods slowly, like he doesn't entirely understand. So Dean says it again.

"Thank you...for... _everything_." All the good, every moment of the bad, all of it.

(Dean _loves_ Castiel.) He hopes Cas knows. He hopes with every fiber of his being that the angel knows. 

With a final squeeze on the angel's shoulders, Dean walks by and attempts to lighten the mood just a tad. Who would Dean Winchester be if he doesn't go out with some sarcasm?

"Okay look," He claps his hands together, "I want a big funeral.  
All right? I'm talking epic.  
Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy."

Sam shrugs, "Done."

Dean glances around at the spring leaves on the blossoming trees, and towards his mother's grave. "And for my ashes... I'd like them here... Yeah."

He nods to himself, his hard front dropping away a bit as he pulls out his cars keys with a rattle and approaches Sam.

"You know the drill, no chick flick moments."

Sam scoffs, tears in his eyes, "You love chick flicks."

"Yeah, you're right, I do," Dean admits and hands the keys to his baby over. "C'mon."

He pulls Sammy in for a last hug, and his brother buries his face in Dean's shoulder and he can just barely hear the murmured, "I love you."

"Yeah, you too," Dean mumbles, refusing to cry.

—

The garden is nearly empty.

He can sense her closeness; a pulsating _cold_ that ripples through the air and tugs at Dean's entire being. He steps wearily down the stone path, keeping his arms held from his sides and hands spread in fear of lighting the bomb too soon.

At the far end, outside of the pavilion Dean's passing through, Amara sits on a bench surrounded by wilting flowers. "Dean."

The Darkness stands up, an emotionless expression revealing nothing, "How did you find me?"

"Does it matter?" Dean retorts, "I'm here to give you what you want. Me."

"That's a change," Amara remarks, eyebrows rising.

"Well, I can't just stand by and watch the world, my friends, and my family die." He explains like it's simple. Which, it kind of is. "So if becoming a part of you takes me away from that, then I'm in."

"You and that bomb in your chest? Do you think I can't taste the power coming off of you?" She rises and Dean feels himself shrink ten sizes. "Please. Even if it could work, the problem is you've never been able to hurt me. So what makes this time any different?"

"I don't have a choice." Dean defends, "What you're doing to the sun –"

"That's not me," Amara interrupts, "With my brother getting weaker, the scales are tipping away from light. And into darkness. Into nothing," She lifts her arms to the sky, then brings them down slowly. The sun is melting into the clouds, disappearing more and more with every second that passes by. "When God's gone, the universe, _everything_ , will cease to exist. Including me."

"Then why are you killing him?!" Dean demands, "What's the point of ending the world if it ends you too?"

"You've misunderstood, Dean..." The Darkness steps closer, more plants dying in her wake. "Why do you I think I've been pursuing you? It's never been my intention to _actually_ destroy the earth or the universe."

"Then what the hell are you doing this all for? What do you want..." Dean scowls, " _me_ for?"

"In order for this all to continue to exist, there must be balance. Light and Dark. You, Dean, are to become the _new_ Light."

"You want me to be the new _God?_ " Dean clarifies, baffled beyond belief.

"Yes, Dean, that has always been my intention." She advances even more, barely five feet from him. "We can mold the universe into what _we_ want, _together_."

"What could possibly make you think I want to _be_ with _you_ , ever?"

Amara bends down to a green patch of grass and skims her fingers across the tips, the blades shrivelling and browning immediately. She looks up at the Winchester questioningly.

"Do you not want to to be? With me, that is?"

Dean gapes, "Of _course_ not. Not like... _that_. I mean ever since you were first let loose I've felt this... _thing_ towards you, but I hate it. I don't want it there."

"I put it there for a reason," The Darkness stands and comes even closer, "I thought it would be easier for to you to join me if you felt _attraction_. You already have a brother, so I did not imagine you would want to have me as your sister."

Dean stares for a good long moment, processing what she means. Then it dawns on him.

"You would rather I be your brother?"

"Yes."

"But..." Dean's brow furrows, "You _have_ a brother, Amara. A brother who is worried for you. A brother who _doesn't_ want to me to be here blowing you up. You have a brother that cares about you and is dying _because_ of you." The hunter reaches out and places a tentative hand on the sister of God, "You don't need me to be your brother or your family. Chuck is ready to forgive you, when you're ready to forgive him."

Amara's eyes widen and she begins to look... _human_. More human than she ever has. 

He says so to her, "Now you might be an all-powerful being but I think you're human where it counts."

The Darkness turns away, but he goes on.

"You simply need your brother."

With a _whoosh_ , Chuck is suddenly down the path in front of Amara.

He's clearly weak, barely holding on any more. Amara rushes to catch him just as he says:

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Brother..." Amara soothes, and Dean can see the care in her eyes and the confusion in Chucks.

Dean nods at the Darkness, "Tell him what you told me."

Amara looks at Chuck, offering a small smile, "I need my brother."

The relief on God's face spreads like wildfire. He begins to glow as the peace between Light and Dark helps the dead plants in the garden and they perk up and bloom happily. The sky swirls, and  the sun blips back to it's self, the clouds turning brilliant white against the pure blue back drop.

"I thought revenge would make me happy. But I was wrong," Amara explains as Chuck gains the strength to hold himself up. "What you've made, it's beautiful. It took me a long time to see that."

"I know that we can't go back to the way things were," she tells him, "I don't want to, but I wish... I wish that we could just be a family again."

"I think I would like that very much."

Dean smiles at the exchange. He's almost forgotten about the bomb inside his chest when Chuck suddenly approaches him, touching his fingers to the hunter's chest.

"I don't think you'll be needing this," he says kindly.

"Yeah," Dean breathes in unbelievable relief.

The souls are extracted in a blinding flash of light, it feels like the insides of his body are being sucked out through his pores, and then the pain is gone, and the shimmering souls flicker upwards to the heavens. 

Chuck returns to his sister's side, and they take search others hands. "I think we're just gonna go away for a while. Family meeting.

"I get it." Dean agrees, but then he realises, "What about us? What about _Earth_?"

Chuck shakes his head, "Earth will be fine. It's got you and Sam."

Amara glances at her brother then directs her attention to Dean. "Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you."

The hunter hasn't the faintest what this means, but nods anyway. Not like he has a choice.

The siblings take a last look at one another, then gaze up at the sky. In a beautiful explosion of colour God becomes clouds of light and Amara transforms into smokey blackness. Their forms twist and turn up into the sky, creating a double helix that escapes the garden and goes up and up and up, until they become one. A colour between dark and light. It spreads everywhere, to the horizon, until the entire world is sheltered by a hazey grey mist.

—

It's night time now, God and Amara long since faded.

Dean pushes through some bushes, lifting his phone up to try and catch reception.

Amara's promise is still ringing through his head.

_I want to do the same for you._

"Where the hell am I?" He asks no one.

A rush of nausea comes over him and then his feet crash down on hardwood floor instead of the muddy grass he'd just been on.

The first thing he sees is Cas.

So this is what Amara meant. Giving him what he needs? He needs Cas. He does.

He's about to step forward when he peers past Castiel and to what the angel is staring at. 

Sam is beside Cas, staring at the same thing.

At the same someone.

Dean can't help but choke out the word, " _Mom?_ "

 

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully nobody hates my version??
> 
> Also the idea about Sam whispering "I love you" to Dean comes from somewhere on tumblr, not my own brain (unfortunately).
> 
> Anyway... I hope season 12 won't disappoint. S11 wasn't half bad, not bad at all...
> 
> Find me on tumblr @theimpossibleimpala.


End file.
